#y Emojis & Text

✞☠︎𝒫ℴ𝒾𝓈ℴ𝓃 ☠︎✞

²

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SWEET CWEAM pt. 2 Plankton's gaze shifted to the ceiling, where shadows danced in the harsh fluorescent light. He tried to remember, but his thoughts were like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "Karen," he whispered, his voice tiny and lost. "My tweef?" Her smile never wavered, her eyes steady on his. "Don't worry about your teeth now. They're all taken care of." Plankton's mind raced, trying to grasp the concept of missing teeth. He swallowed, the movement painfully sluggish in his throat. "Buh... buth how?" "They used a special kind of sleepy medicine," she explained, her voice a calm lullaby in the stark reality of the recovery room. "It made sure you didn't feel any pain." Plankton's eye grew rounder still, his curiosity piqued. He felt a strange giggle bubble up from his chest, the absurdity of the situation tickling his funny bone. "Sleeby meds?" he repeated, the words coming out like a slurred song. The nurse, used to seeing patients in various states of post-op confusion, just smiled. "Yes, the sleepy medicine," she said, her voice a comforting lilt. "It's to keep you calm and pain-free." Plankton's eye wandered to the IV drip next to his bed, the clear fluid snaking into his arm. "Meee," he managed. The nurse followed his gaze and explained, "That's just some fluids to keep you hydrated, Mr. Plankton. You've been asleep for a little while." Karen watched as his eye grew distant, his mind adrift in the sea of anesthesia. The drool trickled down his chin, and she tenderly dabbed it away with a tissue. "Do you remember anything?" Plankton's gaze flickered, and a faint smile tugged at his numb lips. "I 'member flying," he murmured, his voice a whisper of a dream. "I thaw youw were thewe," he said, his eye half-closed. "Youw wuz a buttefly." Karen's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and concern. "I was a butterfly?" she repeated, playing along. "That's sweet, Plankton." He nodded, his eye glazed with a dreamy expression. "Yew wuz," he insisted, his voice still slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day finally breaking. "Okay, my little butterfly," she whispered, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Why don't we go home?" The nurse nodded, preparing the discharge papers. "You can take him now," she said, handing them to Karen. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest and stick to soft foods for the next few days." Karen helped Plankton to his feet, his body protesting the sudden movement. He swayed like a willow in the wind, his arm draped heavily over her shoulders. Together, they shuffled out of the recovery room, his feet dragging against the floor as if tethered to an invisible weight. The numbness in his mouth had spread to his cheeks, giving his face a lopsided smile that made him feel like a clown, his mouth still frozen in a lopsided smile as he chuckles. Karen led him out of the clinic. Plankton’s eye closed as he suddenly tilted onto her, letting out a little snorelike snort. "Plankton, wake up," she giggled, half-supporting his weight. The fresh air hit his face like a slap, waking him up just enough to realize his mouth was still as numb as a brick. He tried to speak, but it was like his tongue had forgotten how to move. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye searching for understanding. The world around Plankton was a blur of shapes and colors. "Walky," he slurred, his legs like jelly under him. Karen guided him to the car, his legs moving as if through molasses. Once inside, he fidgeted with the seatbelt, his fingers refusing to cooperate. "Let me," she said, buckling him in, making his eye go wide again. "Thathks," he muttered, “I thee the twess," he said, his voice filled with wonder as if he had just been born. Karen chuckled, starting the car. The engine hummed to life, and Plankton's eye followed the world as it moved past the window, his gaze unfocused and innocent. "Lookit the twess," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They'we aww bending to shay hewwo." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his slurred words. "Yes, they do that when it's windy," she explained, her voice a comforting balm to his confused mind.

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA i (Autistic author) As Chip stepped into the kitchen, Karen looked up from her recipe book, her screen lighting up with a familiar smile. Her apron was dotted with flour. "Hey, buddy," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was your day?" Chip shrugged, tossing his backpack on the floor. "It was okay, I guess." He noticed the tantalizing aroma of something baking in the oven. "What's that smell?" Karen chuckled. "Just a little surprise for later. I thought I'd make your favorite - apple crumble. But first, tell me about your day. Did you have any interesting classes?" Chip rolled his eyes. "It was the same old, same old. History was a snooze fest, math was a headache." He pulled a face, but the hint of excitement wasn't lost on Karen. "And what about science?" she prodded, knowing it was his favorite subject. "We started a new unit on space," he said, his voice picking up. "Mr. Jenkins said we might even get to build a model of the solar system." Karen's smile grew. "That sounds like fun!" Chip hugs her and then goes upstairs, looking for Plankton, his father. He opens the door to his dad's room and sees his father asleep, a soft snore rumbling from his chest. The room is a mess of books and papers, the pages of a scientific journal open before him. Chip chuckles silently, tiptoeing closer to peek at the title: "Advanced Quantum Measurements." The sight of Plankton's snoring form brings an odd feeling to Chip’s chest. He’s never seen his dad asleep before! He takes a moment to study his dad's face, so peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of energy. The snore turns into a quiet sigh. Chip knows not to disturb him, but he can't help himself. He gently nudges Plankton's arm. "Dad, wake up," he whispers. Plankton's eye shot open in surprise, the book falling to the floor with a thud. "Chip? What is it?" He sits up, blinking quickly to clear his vision. Chip stammers for a moment before speaking. "I-I just wanted to tell you about my day and science class," he says, knowing his dad likes science. Plankton's face relaxes, but there's a hint of self-consciousness in his eye as he glances around the cluttered room. "Ah, yes, science," he says, clearing his throat. "What did you learn today?" Chip's screen darts around, picking up on his dad's embarrassment. He quickly summarizes his school day, leaving out the part about his classmates teasing him for his love of science. He doesn't want to ruin the mood or make his dad feel bad for missing out. Plankton nods along, his mind clearly… somewhere else? As Chip finishes his story, his dad's eye refocus. "A model of the solar system, you say?" He seems genuinely interested, and the tension in the room eases. "Why don't we build one together later tonight?" "Really?" Chip yells, too loud for Plankton. Plankton flinches, his autistic sensitivity to sound making him wince. "Ah, yes, really," he repeats, a tiny smile playing. What Chip doesn’t know? His dad was born with a form of autism, and only Karen knew about it. He’s kept it a secret from Chip, neither of them having ever told. The clutter in Plankton's room isn't just laziness or disorganization—it’s part of his condition. Plankton's autism means that his brain processes the world differently, and the chaos around him is a comforting, familiar pattern. But seeing it through Chip's eyes now, he feels a pang of embarrassment. He wishes he could be like other dads, with tidy spaces and simple interactions. "Yeah, really," Plankton says again, trying to sound more enthusiastic. He knows it's important to Chip, so he'll push through his exhaustion. "Let’s do it later tonight." He's always tried to hide his autism from Chip, not wanting to bother him with the challenges he faces. But now, the clutter, the unexpected touch, it all feels like a spotlight on his differences. But Chip's excitement is apparent, though. Chip nods eagerly, unable to contain his joy. "That sounds amazing!" He yells as he rushes over to hug his dad, not noticing the flinch Plankton gives when his body is touched unexpectedly. Plankton tenses up, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden contact. He's always loved his son, but physical touch, especially sudden ones, are something he's never quite gotten used to. It's like an alarm going off in his brain, sending waves of anxiety through him. Chip feels the tension in his dad but attributes it to excitement. He's always been so focused on keeping his condition hidden that he's never taught Chip about his needs. Now, as Chip's energy radiates from the hug, Plankton is left with the weight of his secret. The room spins around him, though, and he’s unable to think. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip asks, pulling back slightly. He notices the pale tint to his father's skin, the way his eye have gone a bit glassy. Plankton takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," he says, though it comes out slightly strained. "Just a bit tired. Let's do the solar system project after dinner." Chip's face falls, noticing his dad's discomfort. He's not sure what happened, yet he’s still not quite done with the affectionate touching. So when Chip reaches out and touches his shoulder, Plankton jolts like he’s been zapped by a live wire. The surprise is too much. His body locks up, and he can't help the flinch that crosses his face. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice full of concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton quickly recovers, his smile back in place. "It's nothing," he assures, though his heart races. He's aware his reaction wasn't typical. “Oh ok, good,” Chip says, once again touching him as he pats his arm. Plankton can't help but flinch again, and this time Chip sees it clearly. "Dad, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. Plankton nods, his smile forced. "I'm just tired, Chip. Really." "Are you sure you're sure?" Chip asks, his hands grabbing his father's. "You seem kind of... off." Plankton looks down at their joined hands, and the sensation sends another wave of panic through him. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm fine," he says, but Chip isn't convinced. "You can tell me if something's wrong," Chip persists. "I'm your son, I'm here for you." Plankton's eye darts to their hands, then to Chip's intense stare. He feels himself getting disoriented. "Dad, really," Chip says, his voice softer now, his screen filled with concern. "You can tell me." Plankton's chest tightens. This is it. The moment he's been dreading for years. He looks at his son, his face a mirror of his own confusion and pain. How do you tell a child that their father is not like other dads? That his quirks are not just eccentricities, but part of a complex puzzle of the brain… NO. He won’t tell him. He’s kept it a secret, and Chip’s not ready either. Not to mention being to far gone in the ringing of his ears to even think up a coherent thought, nor stay present any longer. But he’s to far gone to move. He feels his heart pounding against his ribcage. His vision starts to blur around the edges. "Dad?" Chip's voice cuts through, adding to the static in his head. "You don't look fine." Plankton's mind races as he tries to find the right words to say, but his mouth won't cooperate. "Dad, what's going on?" Chip asks, his voice tinged with fear. "You look like you're in pain." Plankton's breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. He's having a meltdown. The touch, the noise, the light—it's all too much. He needs to get away, find a quiet space, but his body won't move. Karen rushes in, concern etched on her face. "Plankton, what's happening?" she asks, gently touching his shoulder. But even her touch is a thunderclap in his overwhelmed brain. Plankton jolts and pulls away, his eye wide with fear and confusion. "I-I can't," he stammers, unable to form a coherent sentence.

TRUTH AND NAIL i “Karen Plankton‽” Karen stood up as the receptionist at the dental office called her. She’s been in the waiting room as her husband Plankton’s in surgery. She followed the nurse into a brightly lit room where Plankton lay on his back, his mouth agape, snoring gently. The anesthetic had done its job, leaving him completely oblivious to the world around him. The surgeon looked up from his chair, a smile creasing his mask. "Mrs. Plankton, your husband's wisdom teeth extraction was a success," he said. "You can stay with him as he wakes up." Karen sat by his side, her hand resting gently on his arm. The steady hum of the machines filled the space, punctuated by occasional beeps. The nurse adjusted the IV, ensuring the flow of fluids remained steady. The doctor entered, nodded at Karen, and began to check the surgical sites, but he didn't wake up. The surgeon leaned over, his eyes studying the readouts with care. Satisfied, he turned to Karen, "He'll be coming around in time," he assured her. Her screen never left Plankton's peaceful face, his cheeks slightly puffy, his mouth slack and open. A trickle of drool slid from the corner of his mouth, and Karen couldn't help but chuckle softly, even in the tension of the moment. He'd never let her see him like this if he had a choice. The nurse offered a reassuring smile, "It's normal, dear. The anesthesia can do funny things. Just wait. He'll be back to his usual self by tomorrow." Karen nodded. She leaned in closer to Plankton, his normally stern face was relaxed in sleep, his brow unfurrowed. It was strange to see his sharp features softened, his expression one of peace. The nurse left them, and Karen took the chance to whisper, "You're going to be okay." The nurse had warned her about the disorientation that often came with waking up from surgery. Patients could be confused, even a little babyish, as the world swam back into focus. Some had a tendency to say things they didn't mean or remember later. So, when Plankton's eye flickered open, Karen was ready. "Wha... where am I?" he mumbled, his voice slurred and eye glassy. Karen took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're in the recovery room, sweetie. You had your wisdom teeth out." The words seemed to float around him, like bubbles in his befuddled brain. "Wisdom teed?" he muttered, blinking slowly. "Wha awe those?" Karen stifled a laugh, her emotions swelling with love and concern. "They're teeth, darling. Don't worry, you won't miss them." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sterile whiteness and the blinking lights above him. "Teef?" he slurred, his mind still groggy. "Wheh take out teef?" Karen gently stroked his hand. "Just the wisdom ones, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "They were causing you trouble." "Trubble?" Plankton repeated, his speech slurring more with each syllable. His eye closed again, lid heavy with sleep. "I know it's confusing right now, but you'll understand soon," Karen said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton's eye opened again, a bit wider this time, and he squinted at the light. "M'th... m'th... my mouf feels..." He tried to form the words, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy. "It's normal, darling," Karen said, her voice like a gentle breeze. "The anesthesia can make your mouth feel funny." Plankton's eye drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts racing but his words failing to keep up. "Bright wight," he murmured, his voice distant and lost. "It's okay," Karen said, wiping the drool from his chin with a tissue. "The lights are just to help you wake up." "Wake up?" Plankton repeated, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha happened?" "You had a little surgery," Karen said, her voice soothing and calm. "They took out your wisdom teeth. Remember?" Plankton's eye searched hers, confusion and fear swirling in his gaze. "Sur...surgery?" he managed to say, his voice weak and unsure. "Why?" "Don't worry," Karen soothed, her voice a soft caress. "It was just a little thing. They took out some teeth that were causing you pain." Plankton's eyelid flitted, trying to make sense of the words. "Teef? Pain?" he slurred, his hand reaching up to probe his mouth. "No, no, don't touch," Karen hurried to stop him, her grip firm but gentle. "They're still a bit tender." Plankton's hand fell back to the bed, his mind racing but his body slow to respond. "Tends?" he murmured, the word strange and foreign. "Every ting sho..." His thoughts trailed off, the word "different" eluding him. Karen watched him, her smile a blend of amusement and tenderness. "You're going to be okay," she repeated, her voice a constant in the sea of confusion. "You're just a little out of it." "Ooot of it," Plankton echoed, his voice a faint rumble. He tried to sit up, but the nurse had warned Karen about this too. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy, sweetie," she cooed. His eye searched hers, like a child lost in a supermarket. "Karen?" he murmured, her name sounding like a question. "I'm here," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "You're in the hospital, Plankton. You're okay." "Hospit...hospit...tal?" he slurred, his eye darting around the room again. "Why?" "You had wisdom teeth, Plankton," Karen said, her tone as soothing as a mother's. "Remember?" "Wis...dome tweed?" Plankton slurred, his mind spinning, his thoughts muddled and slow to form. "Ow?" Karen chuckled gently, her screen sparkling with humor. "It's all right, dear," she cooed. "They just removed your wisdom teeth. You're feeling a bit loopy." Plankton's eyebrow knit trying to piece together the puzzle. "Widom...teef?" he repeated, his voice still slurred but with a hint of recognition. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, smiling down at him. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. You're going to be fine." Plankton's hand wobbled in the air before it fell to his side, his mind a swirl of fog. "Where...where am I?" his voice was a faint murmur, his eye glazed over. "You're in the hospital," Karen said, her voice steady as a lighthouse beam. "You had surgery, darling. Remember?" Plankton's eye fluttered closed, his head rolling to the side as if the weight of the world was too much. "Sur...gury?" he slurred, the syllables like molasses on his tongue. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a lullaby in the stark room. "It's all over. You're safe now." He mumbled incoherently, his words a jumble of letters and sounds that barely formed coherent thoughts. "Wh...wha...was it?" his mind grasped for understanding, his eye half-closed and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her voice a lifeline in his foggy sea of confusion. "It was just a surgery, Plankton. To remove your wisdom teeth." "Wis...wis...dome...teef?" he murmured, the words still strange in his mouth. He blinked slowly, trying to recall why he was here. Karen nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes, they took them out. You're all done." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, his body going slack again. "Tek...tum...out?" he mumbled, his mind still swimming in the murky waters of unconsciousness. Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "They're gone, sweetie. You're okay." But he’s fallen asleep again, his snores filling the silent room, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. Karen watched him, her love squeezing with a mix of amusement and concern.

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD i Karen had been pacing the waiting room. Finally, the doors swung open and Dr. Castellanos stepped out. Karen rushed over. "How's Plankton?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Dr. Castellanos offered a small, reassuring smile. "The surgery went well. We removed all four wisdom teeth without any complications. He's in recovery." Karen followed the dentist Dr. Castellanos down the hallway. They entered a small, curtained area. There lay Plankton, his snoring soft and even, surrounded by the beeping monitors. Karen felt a gentle wave of relief wash over her, seeing his usually furrowed brow now relaxed in sleep, his mouth slightly ajar. "We numbed his mouth even though he's slept under the anesthesia, so he might not feel that part of his face for today. The anesthesia can normally cause patients to act a bit peculiar when they first wake up," Dr. Castellanos explained as Karen studied Plankton's slack features, his antennae twitching with each snore. As if on cue, a string of drool slithered out of the corner of Plankton's mouth and dangled. Karen chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal," Dr. Castellanos assured her with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "The numbness can cause that. It'll wear off by tomorrow. He'll wake up anytime though." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. The surgery was a success, but she knew the real test would be when he came to. Would he be in pain? Would he be groggy or scared? The what-ifs swirled in her mind like a tornado of uncertainty. The room grew quiet, the only sounds the persistent rhythm of the heart monitor and Plankton's slight snores. Karen pulled up a chair and took his hand, her thumb gently stroking the back of his palm. As the minutes ticked by, the curtain around the bed parted and in stepped a nurse, her shoes squeaking softly on the clean, white floor. "Miss?" she said quietly. "When Mr. Plankton wakes up, he might be disoriented. We've prepared a cup of water if he's thirsty." Karen nodded her understanding, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly. The nurse checked the monitors and stayed with them. Karen leaned in, whispering to Plankton, "You're going to be okay." Eventually, Plankton's snoring grew less pronounced, and his eye began to flutter open. He looked around the unfamiliar space with a dazed expression, confused and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her eyes brimming with a mix of concern and relief. Plankton's eye settled on Karen's face. She offered a tentative smile, not wanting to startle him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered, her voice soothing. "You're all done. You're in recovery now." His eyes searched hers, slowly focusing. He tried to mouth a question, but the numbness took hold. All that came out was a muffled, "Mmmm?" Karen's smile grew wider. "You're okay," she assured him, her voice calm and soothing. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. Remember?" Plankton blinked a few times, his gaze flicking from Karen to the unfamiliar surroundings and back again. He attempted to speak again. "Mmph?" It was barely audible, his mouth refusing to cooperate. Karen nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "You're in the dentist, remember? You had surgery to remove your wisdom teeth." Plankton's eye grew wider, his mind trying to piece together the hazy fragments of memory. "Windom eet?" Karen chuckled despite herself. "Yes, all four," she confirmed, nodding. Plankton's eye grew even wider, and he managed to nod, a look of astonishment spreading across his face. The nurse came over. "Here, let's help you sit up," she said, placing a pillow behind his back. As Plankton sat up, his face contorted with confusion, his mouth feeling like it was filled with marshmallows. He tried to talk again. "Mmph... Kahen...?" he slurred, his tongue fumbling over the words. Karen laughed softly. "Yes, I'm here," she said. Plankton's eye lit up at the sound of her voice, and his cheeks puffed up as he tried to smile. "Mmph... gweat," he managed to say, the words a garbled mess. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his endearing attempt to speak, his numbness adding an unintentional comedic twist to the situation. He reached out a wobbly arm, his hand grasping for the cup of water the nurse had left on the tray. Karen carefully lifted it to his lips, supporting his head as he took a sip. The cool liquid trickled down his throat, a welcome reprieve from the dryness. "Mmph, gwood," he murmured. The nurse gave a knowing smile, accustomed to the peculiarities of waking patients. Karen couldn't help but be enchanted by Plankton's delirious state. His usual stern expression was replaced with one of pure joy, his eye twinkling like stars on a cloudless night. He began to flail his arms around, knocking over the surgical tray with a clatter. The nurse quickly intervened, stabilizing the situation with a laugh. "Whoa there, Mr. Plankton! Take it easy," she said, her voice filled with good humor. With great effort, Plankton managed to articulate a slurred sentence, his mouth feeling like cotton. "Kahen, teww me a stoy," he begged, his speech garbled by the anesthesia. Karen was surprised by the childlike innocence in his tone. Karen glanced at the nurse, who nodded with amusement. She took a deep breath, thinking of a simple tale that wouldn't cause any distress. "Once upon a time, there was Plankton, and he gets to go home from the dentist. The end!" Plankton's eye squinted, his antennae waving slightly. "Mmph... wow, a reawy gweat stoy," he slurred, satisfied with the storytelling for now. The nurse, unfazed by the unusual scene, began to prep his discharge papers. Karen couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her chest, watching his vulnerability. The fierce, cunning villain she knew from the cartoons had been replaced by a gentle soul, his words as jumbled as a bowl of alphabet soup. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred again, his hand reaching for her arm. "Whas' tha... tha...?" He pointed to the monitor, his curiosity piqued by the dancing lines and numbers. "That's your heart rate, buddy," Karen explained, her voice still tinged with amusement. "It's showing that you're okay." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with excitement. "Mmph... mow...?" he managed, his mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with pillows. Karen leaned in, her laughter bubbling up. "It's okay, you're just talking funny because of the medicine." Plankton's eye grew more curious. He pointed at his mouth with a thumb, his antennae drooping. "I... hoth?" Karen nodded, her smile sympathetic. "No, buddy, you're just numb. It'll go away." Plankton's antennae perked up. "Whuh, wike dis?" he asked, his voice still slurred. He tried to stick out his tongue, only to find it thick and uncooperative. Karen nodded. "Exactly like that. But don't worry, you're doing fine," she said, her tone reassuring. Plankton's cheeks puffed up as he nodded, his eye glued to the monitor with childlike wonder.

2/2 THE MOOON Karen couldn't help but giggle at his befuddled state. His usual stoic demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a childlike wonder and confusion. He tried to sit up again, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "Stay still," she said, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "How... how's it... it over?" he slurred, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton trying to form words around his thick tongue. The nurse, who had seen this reaction before, offered a reassuring pat on the arm. "You're all done, Mr. Plankton. The anesthesia is just taking its time to wear off. You're going to feel a bit funny for a while." Plankton's eye rolled back, his body lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. "I can't feel my face," he mumbled, his words barely coherent. "It's the anesthesia," she explained, her voice soft and soothing. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, and his antennae flopped to the sides as if they had lost their will to stand tall. "I've been... I've been... to the mooon!" he exclaimed, his slurred words tripping over each other. The nurse and Karen couldn't help but laugh at his nonsensical rambling. "The moon?" Karen managed to get out between giggles. "You mean the dentist's chair?" Plankton's eye snapped back to hers, his antennae perking up slightly. "No, no... the moo... the cheesy moo!" he insisted, his speech still slurred and his gaze unfocused. His hand waved in the air, trying to describe something that clearly only existed in his anesthesia-induced haze. Karen's laughter grew louder as she watched him. "The cheesy moon?" she repeated, trying to make sense of his gibberish. The nurse's chuckles grew to a full-blown laugh, shaking her whole body. "It's ok Mr. Plankton," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae waved erratically, his mouth forming another round of slurred syllables. "The... the... shmoobly wobble!" he exclaimed, his eye glazed over with a far-off look. "Whewe's shmoobly go?" Karen couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. "Oh, Plankton, you're so funny when you're like this!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mirth. "Fum-fum," Plankton slurred. "I'm not fum-fum," he protested, his voice a mix of indignation and the lingering effects of the anesthesia. His antennae wobbled. "Wha’ you do wiff Mx shmoobly?" "Your mouth is just numb," she explained, her voice shaking with laughter. "You had wisdom teeth removed." "Widom... teef?" Plankton repeated, his voice a mix of slurs and half-sounds. "The... the shmoobly wobble took them?" Karen's laughter grew. "No, Plankton, your wisdom teeth. They were removed." Plankton's eye searched hers, his expression one of utter perplexity. "But... but where's the shmoobly wobble?" he demanded, his mouth a mess of numbness and anesthesia. Karen couldn't contain her laughter any longer, bending over in her seat, her hand over her screen. The nurse was equally amused, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles. "Shmoobly wobble?" she managed to ask between gasps. "What's a shmoobly wobble?" Plankton's antennae waved with the vigor of a drunken sailor. "It's... it's a... a vnorbly snork!" he exclaimed, his words a delightful jumble that made no sense in the sober world. Karen's laughter was infectious, and even the nurse found it hard to maintain her professional demeanor. "A vnorbly snork?" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "What does that do?" Plankton's face scrunched up as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It... it makes... makes the teef... it makes the teef go bye-bye!" he exclaimed, his antennae waving wildly. The nurse covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I see," she said, nodding as if she understood. "The shmoobly wobble is quite a character." Karen wiped a tear from her screen, her laughter subsiding. "I think we should get you home, sweetheart," she said, her voice still thick with mirth. "You need to rest." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze firmly locked on the nurse. "The... the... snibble-bobble?" he declared. "Take the snibble-bobble home, Karen..." The nurse's eyes twinkled with humor and she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Plankton. The snibble- bobble will take good care of you at home." Plankton's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form words that simply would not come out right. "Karen, did you... did you see the... the... the... floobly-doobly?" Karen's laughter bubbled up again. "The floobly- doobly?" she repeated, her voice wobbling with mirth. "What's a floobly-doobly?" Plankton looked at her with confusion. "Huh? The whath?" He asked her. Karen tried to calm her laughter. "The floobly-doobly, Plankton," she said, smiling broadly. "You mentioned it just now." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble. "I... I don't know," he murmured, his voice trailing off. With the nurse's help, Karen managed to get him into a sitting position, his movements sluggish and clumsy. His legs felt like jellyfish, flailing about with no sense of direction. "Come on," she coaxed, helping him stand. Plankton's eye remained half-closed as he stumbled towards the door. The hallway looked like a twisted kelp forest, and his body felt like a ship adrift without a compass. The nurse provided a steady arm, guiding him down the corridor. "Keep walking," she instructed, but with each step, Plankton seemed to drift closer to sleep. His head bobbed, his eyelid fighting a losing battle against the siren's call of slumber. "Plankton, stay with me," Karen urged, her voice a gentle reminder of the world around him. But his body had other ideas, his legs giving out under him. The nurse caught him, her laugh now a warm chuckle at his plight. "It's the anesthesia," she explained. "It'll wear off soon. Just keep talking to him, it'll help keep him alert." Karen nodded. "Look, Plankton," she said. "Can you see the little fishy?" Plankton's eye snapped open, his antennae shooting up. "Fishy?" he repeated. He took a few wobbly steps before his legs gave out once more, and he leaned heavily on the nurse. "Whoa, there," she said, steadying him with a laugh. "We're almost to the car." Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye half-closed again. "So... so tiwed," he mumbled. "We're almost there," Karen assured. The nurse opened the door to the waiting area. Plankton blinked slowly, his eyelid drooping once again. The bright light from outside was like a siren's song, lulling him back into the depths of sleep. "Come on, Plankton, stay awake," Karen encouraged. But the world was spinning, and the siren's call of sleep was growing stronger. With each step closer to the car, his eyelid grew heavier, and his mind swam with a haze of disorientation. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves, and he stumbled again, his hand reaching out for support that wasn't there. "Keep talking," the nurse whispered to Karen, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Karen took a deep breath, forcing her own laughter down. "Remember the time we found the treasure?" she asked, hoping to keep him alert. Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, his sluggish eye focusing on hers. "Tweasure?" he murmured. The nurse nodded encouragingly, and Plankton took another step, his body swaying like a piece of kelp in the current. "Yeah," he mumbled, "the... the... goldy wobble." His words were slurred, his mind lost in the fog of the anesthesia. They made it to the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. She buckled him in, his body already slack with the weight of exhaustion. "Tell me more," she said, trying to keep his thoughts on the treasure they had found together, anything to keep his mind engaged. But Plankton's eye weas closing again, his head lolling against the headrest. "Goldy... wobble... " he murmured, his words barely audible. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You can rest." With a contented sigh, Plankton gave in to the warm embrace of slumber, his body going limp. Karen started the engine and drove carefully, her mind racing with the events of the day. The thought of her stoic husband, reduced to a slurring mess, was too absurd to fully comprehend. Yet, there was a tenderness in his vulnerability that made her love him all the more.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 2 The room is quiet except for the occasional slosh of the saline and the whirring of the chair's recline. Karen watches as the nurse, Nina, applies gauze to the newly-emptied sockets where the teeth once were. The redness is stark against Plankton's slackened face. His snores are deep and even, his antennae resting limply on the chair's headrest. The doctor, Dr. Marlin, gives her a thumbs-up, a silent assurance that everything went according to plan. Karen feels a weight lift from her shoulders. The procedure is over, and Plankton is safe. His breathing continues, the anesthesia still keeping him in its gentle embrace of peaceful slumber. Nina turns to her with a sympathetic smile. "It's normal for patients to feel a bit groggy once they wake up. Sometimes they're a bit disoriented. It's like coming out of a deep sleep. It's normal if today he seems a little out of it. Bleeding and brushing are to be expected, and swelling is normal." "But he'll be okay?" Karen asks, her voice shaking. "More than okay," Dr. Marlin assures her, "Just follow the aftercare instructions and he'll be back to his usual self in no time. Just remember, no solid foods for a few days, lots of fluids, and keep those ice packs handy." Nina adds, "Keep an eye on him. He might be a bit forgetful, or say some funny things. It's just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about." As they wheel Plankton into recovery, Karen watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Nina, the nurse, explains, "The numbness is normal, it's the local anesthesia wearing off. It can feel weird, but don't worry, it'll fade. As for sleepiness, it's just the body recovering from the anesthesia. He might be a bit wobbly on your feet or have some difficulty speaking because of the numbness. Just take it slow, okay? Yet you can talk to him right now while he wakes if you'd like, even if he doesn't fully understand you yet." Karen nods, leaning in close to her husband's. "It's over, Plankton," she murmurs. "You did great. Just a little bit more sleep and then we'll go home." Plankton's breaths are slow and steady, his body still under the anesthesia's spell. The recovery room is dimly lit. The nurse, Nina, keeps a close eye on Plankton as Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. She's always been there for him, a constant source of comfort in the face of fear. The receptionist from earlier, Becky, comes in to check on Plankton, her face still cheerful despite the early hour. "How's our patient?" she asks Karen, glancing at the monitors that track his recovery. Plankton's chest rises and falls steadily, his snores punctuating the quiet. Karen smiles weakly. "He's still out of it." Becky nods. "That's normal. The anesthesia takes a little while to wear off. He'll wake up soon enough. You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear familiar voices." Karen looks down at Plankton's peaceful face. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she says softly. "Just a little longer, and then we'll go home. No more worrying." A line of drool starts to trickle from the corner of Plankton's numb mouth. It's a sight Karen's seen before, but only during his deepest slumbers. She reaches for a tissue and gently dabs at the saliva pooling, his body still under the sedative's grip. She cannot help but feel a twinge of pity for his vulnerable state, despite his snoring. The drool slowly starts to form a tiny river on the chair, a silent testament to the depth of his sleep. Karen wipes it away, knowing he'd be embarrassed if he were conscious of the sight. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals, satisfied with his progress. "You can sit him up now," she says. "Just make sure he's actually awake before we get him walking." Karen carefully turns Plankton's chair with the lever, which gently guides his sleeping body upright. As the chair moves, Plankton's snoring changes pitch, his head lolling slightly. Karen smiles despite herself, his vulnerability endearing. Gently, she cups his cheek guiding his head back up. "Don't worry, Plankton. Almost time to go home," she says, her voice soft as a morning lullaby.

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 2 (Autistic author) He blinked a few times, his vision clearing slowly. He saw her face, wet with tears, and his own realization dawned. "Oh, Karen," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. Plankton struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his head. The lab looked the same, but something felt off. The air was charged with an unspoken tension that Plankton couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to recall the argument, but the details were fuzzy. All he knew was that he'd fallen, and now Karen was apologizing for something she wasn't even at fault for. He looked into her screen, searching for answers. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. "You had an accident in the lab," she replied, her voice calm and measured. "You hit your head." But as she watched him, she noticed something else. His movements were stiff, his gaze unfocused. He wasn't quite the same. Karen noticed that his usual vibrant expressions were absent, replaced by a vacant stare. She chalked it up to lightheadedness. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice still slurred. "Karen." He paused, his eye darting around the room as if searching for words. Karen felt a cold knot form. Something was different about him, something she couldn't quite place. His movements were rigid, his gaze unwavering, like he was seeing her but not really seeing her. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Plankton's eye finally met hers, but there was no spark of recognition, no mischievous twinkle that she was used to. "Plankton glad to see Karen," he said, his tone flat and unemotional. That wasn't right. "Plankton, do you know where you are?" she asked nervously. Plankton nodded slowly, his gaze still unnaturally focused. "Home," he responded, his voice devoid of the warmth and love she was accustomed to. "The Chum Bucket." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the man she knew, but all she found was a distant shadow. Panic began to creep in as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on her. This wasn't just a bump on the head. Something was very wrong. "Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice trembling. Plankton's eye searched her, his expression unchanging. "Karen," he responds correctly. "Wife of Plankton. Computer wife as of July 31, 1999." The words hit Karen like a cold wave. He knew her name, but the way he said it, like he was recounting a fact rather than speaking to his beloved wife, chilled her to the bone. She felt the ground shift beneath her, her world tilting on its axis. "Plankton, what's wrong?" she asked, desperation seeping into her voice. He looked at her, his gaze unblinking. "Wife Karen," he said, his voice robotic. "Irritated with Plankton's lack of attention to anniversary dinner." The words were right, but the emotion, the love, the personality behind them was gone. It was like talking to a stranger, a very tiny, very confused stranger. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice quivering. "I'm not just 'Wife Karen', I'm your Karen. Your partner, your best friend." Plankton's response was a mechanical nod. "Affirmative," he said, his tone unwavering. "Karen is wife. Plankton is husband." The coldness of his words cut through Karen like a knife. Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find any sign of the man she knew was in there. "Plankton," she said softly, "it's me. It's Karen. Do you understand?" He nodded again, his antennae barely twitching. "Understood," he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. "And Karen is upset?" Karen nodded, trying not to crumble. "Yes, I'm upset," she managed to say, her voice choked with emotion. "But more than that, I'm scared. You're not acting like yourself, Plankton." He blinked, his gaze shifting slightly. "Scared," he echoed, as if trying to understand the concept. "Why Karen scared?" "Because you're not you," Karen managed to whisper, breaking with every robotic response. "You're acting so... different." Plankton tilted his head, trying to process her words. "Different how?" he asked, his voice still lacking any emotional depth. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. "You're not showing your feelings," she said. "You're not... connecting with me like you usually do." Plankton's face remained a mask of confusion. "Connections," he muttered. "Emotional bonds." He nodded slowly. "Important for relationship. Plankton in love with Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "That's right," she said, her voice gentle. "I know you love me. But you're not showing it, not like before." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he processed this new information. "Plankton must adjust behavior to align with Karen's desired emotional output; how?" Karen felt a pang of sadness. He was trying to understand, but his usual charm was nowhere to be found. She took his hand in hers. "Just talk to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling." Plankton looked at her, his expression still vacant. "Plankton thinking about Karen," he said, his voice flat. "Plankton feeling determined." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the emotion his words conveyed. "Determined to what?" she asked, hopeful. "Determined to what," he echoed. "Karen saying, determined to what. Plankton determined to show Karen love, Karen saying determined to what." Karen realized the depth of his change. This wasn't just a concussion or a temporary loss of memory; it was something much more profound, something that had stripped him of his very essence. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaking, "I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to try. Can you tell me how you feel?" But then he starts to rock back and forth to stim, humming their wedding song. The sight of her husband's usually expressive features now so vacant and his movements so repetitive was alarming. Karen felt a sob rise in her throat, but she pushed it down. She needed to stay strong, for him. "Plankton," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Look at me. I need you to focus. Can you tell me how you feel, in your own words?" He stopped rocking and turned his head to look at her, his eye still distant. "Feelings," he repeated. "Love, anger, sadness, joy. Concepts. Plankton has them. Karen saying, determined to what." Karen's hope sank. The realization was setting in. This wasn't just a case of a bump on the head. Plankton's accident had changed him in a way she didn't fully comprehend. The lab, once filled with the warmth of his passion and dreams, now felt cold and sterile. Her mind raced as she searched for any indication of the man she knew. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was as if a switch had been flipped. "Plankton, does your head hurt?" "Cephalgia via blunt force trauma. Getting better." He responds, flapping his hands. Karen's eyes widened at his unexpected use of medical terminology. "neurodivergence," she thought to herself. Could it be that her husband had somehow developed something from the fall? It was a long shot, but the lack of emotional connection, the repetitive behaviors, and the rigidity of his speech patterns were all hallmarks of it. She scans his brain and connected herself to the monitor. Plankton looks over and sees the brain scan. "Plankton's brain?" "Yes, Plankton.." Karen says. "Cerebellar cortex reduced synapses and showing minimal activity in the corpus callosum. Irreversibly reduced blood flow in between hemispheric..." "I've no idea what you're saying, honey." Karen interrupts. Plankton's face falls, his usual playfulness replaced by a look of confusion. "Neurotypical communication error," he says, his voice laced with frustration. "Karen, Plankton trying to say the fall caused disruption to myelination.." Karen's eyes widen in shocked confusion. "Myelination? Plankton, are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with fear. Plankton nods, his gaze fixed on the brain scan. "Neuroplasticity. Synaptic pruning. Autism acquisition," he says, his words coming out in a rush. Karen's mind reels at his diagnosis. Autism? It couldn't be. But as she looks at his rigid body language and his lack of emotional expression, she can't deny it.

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.

JUST A TOUCH i (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ "You know, I've never seen a sunset quite like this," Karen said, her screen glued to the horizon. Her husband, Plankton, nodded absentmindedly. He was too focused on tightening the bolts on the railing of their Chum Bucket home. As the sun dipped, Plankton's wrench slipped, striking him on the head. With a sharp clang and a muted cry, he staggered back, his eye glazed over with surprise and pain as he falls to the ground, landing on his head with a thud. Karen's hand flew to her screen, stifling a scream as she raced towards him. Plankton's body was eerily still. Her eyes filled with fear and love, she knelt beside him, his head cradled in her slender hands. "Plankton," she whispered urgently, "are you okay?" There was no response, not even a twitch of his antennae. His eye remained closed. "Plankton!" she shouted, louder this time, her voice cracking with concern. The sound of his name echoed through their silent abode. "Wake up, please," she pleaded, tears threatening to spill. The setting sun cast long shadows over his motionless body, the once bright hues of their underwater home now overshadowed by a dark sense of dread. With trembling hands, she checked for a pulse, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Relief flooded through her, but she knew she had to act quickly. "I have to get him to a hospital," she thought, her mind racing. Karen carefully scooped Plankton into her arms and went with determination to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. The nurse, a stern-faced starfish, took one look at the unconscious Plankton and ushered them straight through to an examination room, Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tight. The doctor, a squid with a comforting smile, took over, his tentacles moving swiftly over Plankton's tiny frame. "Ma'am, we need to check his head for any damage," he said, gently patting her hand. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes with the back of her arm. The doctor led them to a room filled with high-tech equipment that whirred and glowed. He placed Plankton on a shiny, cold table. The machines beeped and hummed as they searched for any signs of trauma. Karen held her breath, watching the squid doctor's face for any hint of what he might find. The doctor's tentacles danced over a console, reading the results. Finally, he turned to Karen. "Ma'am, it appears your husband has sustained an irreversible brain condition from his fall," he said softly. Karen's grip tightened on Plankton's hand. "But it's not all bad," he quickly added. "The injury has led to the development of Autism in his brain. The condition's called Acquired Autism." Her eyes widened. "What does that mean for him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The doctor's smile was warm, his tentacles still. "It means his brain will process things differently. It could enhance his cognitive abilities in certain areas, but it may also present challenges in others." The news hit Karen like a tidal wave. Autism. A word she had heard before, but never thought would be a part of their lives. "How will this change him?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. The doctor took a deep breath and began to explain. "Plankton may exhibit behaviors that are different from before, such as repetitive actions or heightened sensitivity to stimuli. His social interactions might be affected as well. But, on the positive side, we've seen patients with Acquired Autism develop extraordinary talents in areas like memory or problem- solving." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the information. The doctor's tentacles curled around a clipboard, jotting down notes. "He can go home tonight, and, he'll be able to adapt to his new reality with your patience and love. You may need to accommodate for his comfort, there's no treatment or cure. You can leave whenever he wakes up shortly after we assess and answer any questions." Karen nods and leaned over Plankton, stroking his cheek. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "Together." As the doctor sat by them, Karen was overwhelmed by a flurry of questions and fears. How would Plankton be different? Would he still love her? Would he remember their life together? The quiet beeps of the hospital machines were a stark reminder of the new reality they faced. The doctor's gentle explanation was a beacon of hope in the storm of uncertainty. Plankton might see the world in a new light, his mind unlocking puzzles and patterns that had eluded him before. But the thought of her husband, the man she had spent her life with, changing so fundamentally... As the doctor finished up, Plankton's single eye fluttered open, focusing on her screen. Karen leaped as she saw the spark of recognition. "Karen?" he said, his voice faint but clear. Her heart soared with relief. "Yes, Plankton, it's me," she said, her voice choked with emotion. But as she watched him closely, she noticed something different. His gaze was intense, his movements precise and calculated. He took in every detail of the room, his eye darting around quickly, absorbing everything. His voice, when he spoke again, had a new rhythm to it, almost as if he was reciting a script from memory. "Where?" he asked, the words clipped and quick. Karen took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're in the hospital, Plankton," she said softly. "You had an accident. You hit your head and it changed your brain." The doctor cleared his throat, sensing her tension. "It's common for patients with Acquired Autism to exhibit heightened focus and a need for routine. It will take time for you to learn how to communicate effectively with him in this new state," he explained. Karen nodded, determined to be there every step of the way.

GREAT CHIP i (Autistic author) "I'm home," Chip exclaims. His mom Karen looked up. Plankton, his dad, is in the middle of an absence seizure. Plankton only let Karen know about his autism, and she knew their son Chip may eventually find out about it. Chip notices his dad's odd unresponsive stare at the wall, unblinking. "Dad?" Karen knew Plankton's in sensory overload and needs to wait the absence seizure out. But Chip starts to come closer. "Chip, don't touch him," Karen instructs quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. "Dad's just having a moment. He'll be okay in a bit." She tries to distract him with a snack. "Why don't you go eat some chum from the kitchen?" Chip pauses, curiosity piqued. He's seen his dad zone out before, but never like this. He looks at Karen's tightened expression, then back at Plankton's glazed eye, sensing something serious. He nods reluctantly, backing away and heading to the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and shutting echoes through the house, his mind racing. He eats a piece of chum, but then comes back. "What's wrong with Dad?" he asks, his voice cracking with fear. Karen sighs, bracing herself for a conversation she's been dreading. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip. It's like his brain sometimes gets overwhelmed by things we don't even notice. That's why he zones out. It's called an absence seizure." Chip's eyes widen, trying to process this new information. "But why isn't he talking to me?" Karen's eyes soften with empathy. "It's not because he doesn't want to, sweetheart. When he's like this, his brain just needs a break. It's like when you're watching a movie, and everything else fades away for a moment. For Dad, it happens without his control." Chip nods slowly, watching his dad still frozen on the couch. He wonders what it must be like, to be trapped inside your own mind like that. "Does he know I'm here?" he whispers, his voice barely carrying across the room. "I'm not sure, but let's give him some space," Karen says gently. "It's important not to startle him when he's like this. It could make things worse." Chip nods again, his mind buzzing with questions. He watches from a distance. He's never seen anything quite so... strange. "What do we do when he has one of these?" he asks tentatively, his voice quivering. Karen takes a deep breath. "Just stay calm, and wait. It's like he's in another world. We can't bring him back, but we have to be here for him when he returns." Chip nods, trying to understand. "But when it ends, how will he be?" "It's hard to say," Karen admits. "Sometimes he's a bit confused, sometimes he's tired, sometimes he doesn't remember what happened. We just need to be patient and let him come back to us." Chip's curiosity doesn't wane. "But why does it happen?" Karen sighs, choosing her words with care. "It's part of his autism, his brain processing things differently. Sometimes, it's too much for him, and his body takes a break." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his dad. "But can he hear us?" "I think so," Karen says, trying to keep her tone calm. "But it's like he's in a deep daydream right now. He might not be able to respond or even understand." Chip watches his dad, his curiosity morphing into concern. "Can't we wake him up?" Karen shakes her head. "It's not like sleep, Chip. We can't force him out of it. We just have to wait." Chip nods, but his curiosity is insatiable. "Does Dad like being autistic?" Karen considers the question. "It's not about liking or not liking. It's just who he is. Sometimes it's hard for him, but he's also really good at things because of it. Like fixing those gadgets of yours, or knowing so much about science." Chip looks at his dad's unresponsive form, then at his mom. "But what sets it off? What makes him zone out?" Karen sighs, her gaze lingering on Plankton before returning to Chip. "It's different every time. Sometimes it's too much noise, other times it's a moment of déjà vu.." Chip frowns. "But does he remember what happens to him? Does he know about the seizures?" "Well," Karen starts, her voice measured, "his brain doesn't always keep those memories. Sometimes it's like a blur to him. It's like when you forget a dream right after you wake up. But he's aware that something happens." Chip's gaze shifts to his dad's hand, resting gently on the armrest. "Does he like hugs?" he asks, his voice smaller now, quieter. Karen nods. "He does, but not always. Some days he needs them more than others. Sometimes, it depends on the person.." Chip thinks about this, his screen still on Plankton. "Can I... try giving him a hug now?" Karen looks over, studying her son's innocent expression. "I don't think so, not right now. We have to respect his space." Chip nods, his curiosity not waning. "But when can I hug him?" he asks. "Is there a right time?" Karen looks over, her screen reflecting a mix of pride and sadness. "There isn't a perfect time, but when he's out of his seizure, and if he's in a good mood, try asking. Just remember, his senses are really sensitive. Sometimes, his body needs space more than others." The house remains silent, save for the steady tick of the living room clock. Chip's eyes never leave his father's frozen form, his mind racing.

CATCH IN MY CHIP i (Autistic author) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, just finished with summer camp. He smiled, excitedly going into his home, bursting through the door of the Chum Bucket. "Mom, Dad!" He called out, his voice echoing through the corridors. "Chip!" Karen exclaims rushing over as he runs to her. They hug, and she asks, "How was camp?" He beams. "It was awesome! I learned to surf and made so many friends!" Karen smiles. "I'm so glad you had fun, honey." "Where's Dad?" Chip asks. "He's just having some down time in our bedroom," Karen says. "You can go unpack.." But Chip is already bolting down the hallway, eager to share his adventures. He throws open the door to Plankton's room, expecting to find his dad eagerly awaiting his return. Instead, he finds Plankton just sitting on the bed. "Dad! Dad! You're not going to believe what happened at camp!" Chip's words tumble out in an excited rush. Plankton looks up, a little startled by the sudden onslaught of energy. His eye dance over the pile of equipment Chip's brought back with him, and he tries to focus his scattered thoughts. Chip doesn't notice his dad's flinch, too caught up in his own excitement. He starts unpacking his bag, pulling out his surfboard, a sandy towel, and a shiny, new seashell collection. "Guess what? I was the best in my group at catching waves! And I found this super rare shell on the beach! Look, it's got all these cool patterns!" He holds it out to Plankton's face. Plankton takes a deep breath, his sensory overload building quickly. He tries to smile, forcing his eye to focus on the shell. "That's... that's very interesting, Chip," he says, his voice strained. Chip doesn't catch the subtle tension in his dad's tone. "But wait, there's more!" He grabs a fistful of sandy photos, slapping them onto the bed. "Look at all the fun we had!" Each picture is a blur of smiling kids and splashing water. Plankton's eye darts from one to the next, trying to process the sensory assault. He nods, a bit too quickly, his eye slightly glazed over. "And then there was the talent show!" Chip says, bouncing on the bed. "I did a killer impression of Larry the Lobster!" Plankton winces at the sudden loudness of his son's voice and the rhythmic bouncing. He tries to muster a chuckle, but it comes out forced. "And everyone loved it! They said I was hilarious!" He doesn't see the way Plankton's antenna twitches, a subtle sign of his rising stress. Plankton's mind races as he tries to keep up with Chip's stories. The vividness of the memories, the loudness of his son's voice, and the cluttered space around him all contribute to the sensory storm building inside him. He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself. Chip, oblivious to his father's distress, keeps going. "And you'll never guess what we had for lunch on the last day!" He rummages through his bag, pulling out a half-eaten sandwich. "They made it for me special because I won the sand-building contest!" He can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sensory barrage, his mind racing to find a way to escape the chaos. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton stiffens, his antennas drooping slightly. "And then, remember that time we built the sandcastle together? Well, my counselor said it was even better than that one!" He gestures widely, his arms sweeping through the air and knocking over a stack of papers on Plankton's desk. The sound of scattering paper is like nails on a chalkboard to Plankton's sensitive hearing, and he jerks back involuntarily. His meticulously organized desk, ruined, stressing Plankton out even more. Chip laughs, not noticing Plankton's discomfort. He looks around the messy room, his mind spinning. The smell of the musty sandwich mingles with the salty sea air, making him feel nauseous. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to push Chip away. "You're the best dad ever!" Chip squeezes him tighter. Plankton's heart swells with love and pride, but his body tenses under the weight of his son's affection. He can feel his personal space shrinking, his need for order and quiet desperately trying to assert itself. But Chip is still on a high from his summer camp tales and doesn't notice. He keeps talking, his words flowing like a river, each one crashing into the dam of Plankton's overstimulated brain. Plankton's breaths grow shallower, his eye darting around the room as he searches for a way to retreat without hurting his son's feelings. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton's body stiffens under the sudden physical contact, his antennas drooping even more. The smell of the salty ocean, the feel of sand on his skin, it's all too much, which is when the shut down happens. "Dad?" Chip pulls back, noticing his dad's reaction. Plankton's eye now wide and unfocused, his breaths quick and shallow. "What's wrong?" Plankton can't bring himself back to consciousness. "Dad?" Chip says again, his voice now laced with concern. Plankton's normally expressive eye is vacant, his body as rigid as a board. The room seems to spin around Chip, his excitement quickly morphing into worry. He's never seen his dad like this before. "Are you okay?" He touches his father's arm with a curious poke, making his unmoving body tip over onto his back, still not budging. Chip's never seen such an unblinking stare. "Dad? Dad, are you okay?" He asks again, voice quivering. Plankton doesn't respond, his eye glazed over, his body motionless. Chip's concern grows with each passing second. He tries to shake his dad, his small hands trembling. "Dad, please, talk to me," he whispers, his voice cracking. He looks at his dad, who lies unresponsive, it's like Plankton's gone somewhere else entirely. He calls out again, louder this time, "Dad? Daddy?" But Plankton doesn't move, doesn't blink. Chip feels a knot form in him, a cold realization starting to sink in. This isn't just tiredness or daydreaming. Panic bubbles up in him. He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it's not good. His thoughts are a jumble of questions: why isn't his dad responding? What did he do wrong? He jumps off the bed and runs to find his mom. "Mom! Mom!" his cries echo through the Chum Bucket. Karen rushes out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "What's wrong?" "It's Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "He's just lying there not moving. I don't know what..." It dawns on her. Plankton's autism often left him like this, a silent retreat into himself when the world was too much. Karen's heart squeezes. Chip had never seen this side of his dad, never understood how much sensory input could overwhelm him. Sure enough, reaching the bedroom, Karen found him in one of his light-headed/dizzy moments. "It's okay, Chip," Karen soothed, kneeling beside her son. "Your dad has something that makes his brain work a little differently from other people's. It's called autism. Sometimes, when he gets too much information at once, it's like his brain needs a little break." Chip looked at her, his screen wide with confusion. "Is he okay?" "Yes, honey," Karen says, her voice calm and gentle. "He's just overstimulated. Sometimes, when there's too much going on, it's hard for him to process everything."

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❍˙𖦹"≂

petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

I 𝓕o®🇬⚬t ♄⚬ω t⚬ 𝐬୧🅰®c♄ 𝐬†∪fƒ in ୧𝓂oj𝒾ℂo𝐌b⚬ 🅰 🇦 𝓐 ⩜ 𝛂 𝖆 𝒶 ß 🅱 🇧 В ₿ 𝑏 𝓫 © 🇨 𝐂 € ☾ 🇩 𝐃 𝒟 ძ 𝒅 𝑬 🇪 𝔼 ୧ 𝑒 🇫 𝓕 𝒥 𝓯 ƒ 🇬 ɢ 𝓖 ℊ 𝓰 Ⓗ 🇭 ℋ |-| 𝓗 ♄ ℌ 🇮𝑰 ┃ 𝒾 ﹗ 𝓣 🇯󠁄 𝐣 ʝ 🇰 𝒦 🅺 ʞ 𝒌 𝑳 🇱 ℒ ʟ | 𝓜 🇲 Ⓜ 𝐌 ᙏ 𝓂 𝐦 🇳 𝓝 Nྀི nྀི 𓎆 И 🇴 𝒐 ⚬ 𝟎 ♡ ☺ 𝓹 🇵 𝐏 ℘ 🇶 𝕢 𝓺 𝖖 ® 🇷 ℛ Ʀ 𝐫 🇸 🆂 𝓢 𝐒 𝐬 𝓼 🇹 𝓣 т ✝ ⚚ 𝓽 🇺 ∪ 𝓾 𝕦 𝖚 𝓥 𝐕 \/ Ⓥ 🅥 🇻 🇼 🆆 𝓦 ω 𝕨 ш 🇽 ✗ ﾒ 𝕏 ༝ × ㄨ 𝓍 א 🇾 𝓨 Ｙ ꪗ 𝕪 ყ 🇿 ☡ 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𝐙 ᴀ ʙ ᴄ ᴅ ᴇ ғ ɢ ʜ ɪ ᴊ ᴋ ʟ ᴍ ɴ ᴏ ᴘ ǫ ʀ s ᴛ ᴜ ᴠ ᴡ x ʏ ᴢ 𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃 𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫 ᗩ ᗷ ᑕ ᗪ E ᖴ G ᕼ I ᒍ K ᒪ ᗰ ᑎ O ᑭ ᑫ ᖇ ᔕ T ᑌ ᐯ ᗯ ᙭ Y ᘔ 🇦‌ 🇧‌ 🇨‌ 🇩‌ 🇪‌ 🇫‌ 🇬‌ 🇭‌ 🇮‌ 🇯‌ 🇰‌ 🇱‌ 🇲‌ 🇳‌ 🇴‌ 🇵‌ 🇶‌ 🇷‌ 🇸‌ 🇹‌ 🇺‌ 🇻‌ 🇼‌ 🇽‌ 🇾‌ 🇿‌ 🅰 🅱 🅲 🅳 🅴 🅵 🅶 🅷 🅸 🅹 🅺 🅻 🅼 🅽 🅾 🅿 🆀 🆁 🆂 🆃 🆄 🆅 🆆 🆇 🆈 🆉 𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷 ᵃ ᵇ ᶜ ᵈ ᵉ ᶠ ᵍ ʰ ⁱ ʲ ᵏ ˡ ᵐ ⁿ ᵒ ᵖ ૧ ʳ ˢ ᵗ ᵘ ᵛ ʷ ˣ ʸ ᶻ

“🫧🎀⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆”

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⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣉⣉⣉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⢉⠋⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢉⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡈⠻⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣉⣀⠀⠙⣨⣤⣭⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⢸⣿⡟⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⣿⣿⣯⡇⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠛⢿⡏⣡⣶⡌⢻⣟⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠛⢋⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢰⣿⣷⣬⢉⣵⣿⣿⣧⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠇⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠘⠿⠿⠟⢁⡙⠛⠛⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣭⣭⠡⠾⢟⣂⣒⡻⠷⠌⠵⢶⣍⠻⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⢋⣴⡦⢊⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣌⡛⠿⠌⣛⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡅⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⢑⡸⢁⣾⡟⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⠻⡆⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢾⠃⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⣿⣷⣌⠻⡆⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢠⡀⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣦⣱⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⡏⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠣⠹⢛⣙⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣭⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡇⠛⣸⣽⣿⡟⡻⢁⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣯⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⢼⣾⣟⠟⢁⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠙⠛⠟⣙⡻⣦⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡀⢡⠞⠛⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣶⣿⠆⠿⠦⠀⣰⣾⢂⣉⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢁⣺⣥⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠛⠿⣿⣷⣤⠀⣀⠳⢢⣢⢲⠧⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⠌⢉⡄⣈⠑⠛⠛⠂⠚⠓⠒⠀⠀⡀⢩⣴⣶⣶⡌⢢⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⠟⡅⠚⠘⠂⡽⢻⣿⣬⣿⣷⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠒⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠴⣋⡅⣚⣥⣾⣿⣧⣙⠂⢭⡛⠻⠿⠃⡌⠛⢿⣿⣃⣼⠟⠈⢨⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣐⣣⣶⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠘⣶⣦⣍⠁⠐⠐⠰⠌⠉⠋⠁⠄⠶⠂⠊⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⣿⣿⣇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⠀⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡶⠂⢉⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣦⣭⣝⡋⠶⢙⣫⣥⣴⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣙⣂⠶⠦⠠⣤⠤⣄⡀⣡⣀⢠⣀⠄⣤⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠶⠶⠄⠀⠼⣦⡲⠔⠾⣶⣶⣶⠶⠖⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠛⠶⠶⠀⢿⣶⣤⣤⣘⣣⣤⣤⣤⣶⡞⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣁⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⣌⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

Hellooooo, im in ur side @putitundrtherightfockingtags, im a minor💯

୨ৎ

S𑁤S𑁤S𑁤S𑁤<𝟑 ᡣ𐭩

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼ℹ📧📝💬❤️🔥✉✉️📜✨👉✅🌐📌📢📣📅❌👀🤖✔️☀️🇸ᯓᡣ𐭩📚📩📞⭐📋⚠️🧾🔗➡️✔️ 👤💭🤝💡😊📱📲💥💻🇪ᡣ𐭩🇳🇦🇴🇭♡🇬☆𐙚★®💌✉︎📨🌟🎯💯🌎🌸⬇️🔞📍👋🛠️🚀😉🚩📈🔑💰🏆🤔📄✔⚡🏛️𝓜🇷ᥫ᭡🇩🇹.ᐟ౨ৎ🇲⩇⩇:⩇⩇🇰⌞ ⌝┃𝜗𝜚𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞාNdQpLVe2')) OR 402=(SELECT 402 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

nྀི

ocean𓆉‧₊˚✩彡✧˖°𓆩🖤𓆪𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

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I love you 💗🫶🏽💕🤍i️

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| 0:10⋆.˚🦋༘⋆lori yapping 🤫',SH♥''.,.what are we gonna do 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥,..,'

NEW REALITY i (Autistic author) "You never listen to me, Karen," Plankton groused. "It's a new analyzer I just built! It'll reveal the contents of a patty when I put one in!" Karen, ever the skeptical wife, rolled her eyes. "You mean IF you put one in.." Plankton ignored her sarcasm, but with a deafening pop, the analyzer exploded, sending shards of metal flying in all directions. One of these sharp pieces slammed into Plankton's head, causing him to stumble back. Karen rushed to his side, pushing aside her initial irritation. Plankton's eye rolled back and closed as he crumpled to the floor. "Plankton! Plankton!" Karen's voice grew frantic as she cradled his tiny, limp body. The analyzer's explosion had caused more damage than she could have ever imagined, the injury had rewired his currently unconscious brain irreversibly: autism. Karen carries him to their bedroom, tucking him in his bed. "Plankton," she whispers, brushing his antennae, "Please wake up." But Plankton remains still. Karen sits by the bedside, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'll always be here," she murmurs, squeezing his hand. The quiet hum of their tiny underwater apartment is broken only by the rhythmic pulse of his breathing. Karen starts to think. If only she had taken his inventions more seriously, maybe this accident could have been avoided? She looks at the clock. It's midnight now. The hours tick by, each one lonelier than the last. Karen's thoughts are a tangled web of regrets and fears. What if Plankton never wakes up? Karen can't help but feel like a prisoner to her own guilt. She wonders what their life would be like now. Would Plankton be different? Would he still be the same eccentric genius, or would the injury change him completely? Will he remember her? The sun's first light filters through their bedroom window, casting a warm glow on Plankton's face. Karen's eyes snap open, having dozed off from exhaustion. She sees him stir, his eyelid fluttering. He groans, his eye opening slowly. Karen's heart races. He's alive! "K-Karen," he stammers, confused as to how he ended up in their room. The initial relief is quickly replaced with a knot in her stomach. His speech is stilted, his movements jerky. He tries to sit up, but the effort seems to overwhelm him. Karen reaches out to help, but he flinches at her touch. She notices his eye scanning the room with an intensity she's never seen before, as if he's trying to make sense of everything around him. "Plankton, it's okay," she says soothingly, trying not to let her anxiety seep into her voice. He turns to her, his gaze unfocused. "Karen?" he repeats, this time with more urgency. "What... what happened?" Her heart squeezes tight. "You had an accident with the new analyzer," she explains gently, keeping her voice calm. "It... it exploded and hit you.." Plankton looks around, his eye darting from object to object. "It's okay," Karen says, desperately trying to hold back the tears. "You're just a bit dizzy." But Plankton doesn't seem to be listening. He's too busy inspecting his surroundings, his eye darting around the room in a way that makes Karen feel like she's missing something. "Plankton, do you understand me?" Karen asks, her voice trembling slightly. He nods, but there's a distant look in his eye that makes her stomach drop. The way he's acting, it's like he's seeing their bedroom for the first time, like every detail is both fascinating and overwhelming. Plankton tries to get out of bed, but his legs wobble like jelly. Karen jumps up to support him, her arms wrapping around his thin frame. "Let's go slow," she suggests, guiding him back to the pillows. He simply nods. "Do you remember me?" Karen asks, desperation tinging her voice. His eye focus on her for a moment, then drift away again. "Yes," he says, but it's more of a question than an affirmation. "Karen, wife," he adds, his voice flat and devoid of the usual warmth and sarcasm. The words hang in the air like a lead weight, heavy with implications. Karen swallows the lump in her throat. "You're okay," she insists, as Plankton nods, looking around their bedroom when his gaze lands on the ceiling fan. His eye lights up, focusing intently on it. "Fan," he murmurs, as if discovering the concept for the first time. "Spinning. Round and round." Karen's heart sinks. "Plankton," she begins, her voice cracking, "You're acting different." She doesn't know how to explain what she's seeing, but she's scared of what it might mean. His eye doesn't quite meet hers, and his speech is so... mechanical. "Different?" he echoes, his voice a monotone. "No, the same Plankton." But the way he says it, like he's trying to convince himself, sends a chill down Karen's spine. She tries to shake off the fear, telling herself he's just groggy from the hit. But deep down, she knows it's more than that.

❤️‍🩹

⣿⣽⣿⣿⣥⣤⡾⢷⣆⣼⡿⢷⣶⠀⢀⣘⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣛⣛⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡟⠳⠾⠃⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣟⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢩⣽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣼ ⣿⠏⢿⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣲⣾⣇⣀⣈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠋⠛⢻ ⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⡋⣵⠆⠀⠘ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⠀⠸⣯⣻⢿⣶⣾⣿⠟⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣯⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡄⢱⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣶⣾⠿⠋⠶⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣽⣿⣧⣠⣶⡷⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠴⠶⢾ ⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⢳⡜⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣎⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣯⠙⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

🇩🇪2️⃣

★🍞🔥 TOSTADORAS FOREVER (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) #OC 🔥🍞★‹𝟹

CUM NOW! 😩, .ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･ᯓᡣ𐭩

🥰💖💗

So...⸫⸫⸫𓆩♡𓆪

ᗰ𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᑭo͏o͏𝘬𝘪𝘦ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ˚.🎀༘⋆

GO HONE 2/2 The nurse returned, seeing his renewed energy. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said with a smile. "But let's not rush things." Plankton nodded eagerly, his antennas bobbing. "Yeth, yeth, I'm weady!" He tried to sit up again, his body still wobbly. The nurse helped him, adjusting his pillows. "Let's see if you can stay awake for a few more minutes," she said. He looked at her with determined innocence, like a child promising not to eat cookies before dinner. "I'm weally weally weady," he insisted, his words still thick. Karen couldn't help but chuckle, watching him fight the sleepiness. "Good," the nurse said. "Keep talking to your wife, that'll help keep you alert." Plankton's eye lit up with a childlike excitement. "Ish fun to tawk to you, Karen," he said, his words still slurred. "Youw make me happy." Karen felt her heart swell. "And you make me happy," she said, her voice sincere despite his loopy state. "Even when you're being a goofball." Plankton's smile grew, his eye still half-lidded. "Goof...ball?" he repeated, the words sounding strange in his mouth. He giggled again, his body swaying slightly with the effort of staying upright. "Ish fun to be a goofball." Karen couldn't resist smiling back, his silliness was infectious. "Yes, it is," she said. "But you need to stay awake for a little longer." Plankton nodded, his head bobbing slightly. "Otay, Karen," he said, his voice still thick. He then saw the nurse. "Who's dat?" he whispered, his eye wide with curiosity. Karen chuckled softly. "That's the nurse, Plankton. Remember?" He blinked a few times, his antennas perking up as his eyes focused on the kind-faced woman. "Oh, yeah. Tha nurse lady," he slurred, his voice full of sudden realization. "Hi!" The nurse chuckled. "Hello, Mr. Plankton. You're doing great." Plankton's smile grew even wider, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Ish nice to meechu," he said, sleepily. "I wike youw hat.." The nurse couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you, Mr. Plankton. It's nice to meet you too." Plankton's eye began to droop again, and Karen could see the sleep trying to pull him under. "Wakey wakey, Plankton," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You have to stay with me." He nodded, his head lolling to the side before snapping back up with a jerk. "Ish okay, Karen," he whispered, his voice still slurred. "Ish okay." But his eyelid grew heavy, and his words trailed off. "Ish just...tho tiwed," he mumbled. Karen's chuckle was gentle, not wanting to disturb his attempts to stay alert. "I know, sweetie," she said, stroking his hand. "Just a few more minutes." But Plankton's eyelid was like a heavy curtain, despite his best efforts. "Whe...whe...why am I so tiwed?" he slurred, his head lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. Karen knew he wasn't going to last much longer. His hand slipped out of hers, and he began to snore softly again. Karen looked over at the nurse, who nodded in understanding. "It's normal," the nurse said. "The anesthesia can make people pretty loopy for a while." Plankton's snores grew softer, his body relaxing. Karen watched him, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "How much longer?" she asked the nurse. "Just a little longer," the nurse said, checking his vitals again. "The effects should start to wear off soon." Plankton's snores grew softer, and then he was awake again, looking around the room with wide- eyed wonder, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth. "Whe...where...?" His voice was a sleepy whisper. "You're still in the recovery room," Karen soothed, wiping his chin with a tissue. "You fell asleep again." Plankton looked up at her, his eye wide and innocent. "Did I miss sumfing?" he asked, his voice still thick with slumber. "No, sweetie," Karen replied, her voice soothing. "You just fell asleep for a bit. You're still waking up." Plankton's antennas perked up, and he sat up. "But...but I hav ice cweam?" His eye were wide with hopeful inquiry. Karen nodded with a smile, wiping the remaining drool from his mouth. "Yes, when we get home, remember?" Plankton's grin was infectious. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his hands together with a slightly awkward smack. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, his childlike enthusiasm was adorable. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said, her voice filled with affection. But Plankton was already off on another tangent, his gaze wandering to the ceiling. "Whewe awe the fishies?" he asked, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen followed his gaze, seeing the plain, white ceiling tiles. "The fishies are in your imagination, Plankton," she said, her tone gentle. He pouted, his disappointment palpable. "Oh," he murmured, his head lolling to the side. Karen chuckled, her hand still on his arm. "They'll be there when you're all better," she assured him. "But for now, let's just stay here." The nurse smiled. "Looks like our patient is feeling better," she said with a smile. "Almost ready to go home?" Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennas flopping with the motion. "Hone, yesh! Ice cweam!" His eye closed again, and he snored lightly. Karen chuckled. His excitement was adorable, even if it was short-lived. The nurse checked his vital signs. "Looks like the anesthesia's wearing off," she said with a smile. "We can get you ready to go home soon." Plankton's eyelid fluttered open. "Hone?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Almost," Karen said, her voice calm and soothing. "Just a few more minutes." Plankton's eye closed again, his breaths deepening into sleep. His head lolled to the side, his antennas drooping. Karen watched him with love. Even in his most vulnerable state, his antics brought a warmth to the room. The nurse returned and began to prepare the discharge papers. "Almost there," she said with a wink at Karen. "He'll be right as rain in no time." Plankton stirred again, his eye half-opening to a squint. "Whe...where's my ice cweam?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep. Karen chuckled. "Not until we get home, remember?" Plankton's head nodded, his antennas bobbing. "Oh yeah," he mumbled, his voice dreamily content. The nurse finished up the paperwork and turned to Karen. "We're all set. Just make sure he gets plenty of rest and eats soft foods for the next few days." Plankton's eye shot open, his antennas springing to attention. "Ice cweam?" he asked, his voice hopeful. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "When we get home, remember?" He pouted, his lower lip sticking out like a sulky child's. "But I'm so tiwed," he whined. "Tiwed of being tiwed." Karen couldn't help but smile at his usual stubbornness. "You just had surgery," she reminded him gently. "Your body needs to recover." Plankton's eye grew large, and he nodded slowly. "Oh yeah," he said, his voice trailing off. "But...but I wan' ice cweam..." He faltered as Karen holds him up. The nurse chuckled and handed Karen the papers. "It's all normal, he's just loopy from the meds. He'll be fine once he's home." Karen nodded, her expression a mix of concern and affection. Plankton's head lolled back onto her shoulder, his eye drooping again. "Ice...cweam?" he mumbled. "As soon as we get home, I promise," she whispered. His body relaxed into her, his breathing evening out into a gentle snore. The nurse helped Karen maneuver the sleeping Plankton into a wheelchair, his legs still not fully cooperating. "Just a precaution," she said with a wink. "Better safe than sorry." The cool air of the hallway hit him like a wave, and Plankton's eye popped open. "Whe...?" he mumbled, looking around confused. "It's okay, we're going home," Karen said, pushing the wheelchair through the hospital's sliding doors. The sun was shining, and the brightness made him blink. Plankton squinted, his eye trying to adjust to the light. "Home?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "Ice cweam?" Karen chuckled, nodding. "Yes, home. And yes, ice cream." She pushed him out into the parking lot, the sun glinting off the cars. Plankton was still groggy, his antennas waving slightly as if trying to keep time with his thoughts. The ride home was quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the gentle hum of the engine. Karen couldn't help but glance over at him, his mouth slightly open, his face peaceful in sleep. She felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. When they finally pulled up to their house, the sight of their familiar surroundings seemed to revive Plankton. "Whe...we're hone?" he asked, his voice groggy. Karen nodded. "Yes, we're home," she said, her tone filled with relief. "Time for that ice cream."

ʚ ִֶָ☾.🎀!!────୨ᰔyouᰔৎ────ᵎᵎ 🎀࣪ ִֶָ☾.ɞ

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

sub to fishwiffbubbles on yt! ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. (tysm <3)

🌸💌🌹❤😍

. ⚬

💗❤️

. ⚬<𝟑

. ⚬<𝟑ˎˊ˗١٥٧٤♡

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eʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕αnྀི✞ꨄ︎ꑭ<𝟑🇻🇵§⋆ɞძ★TwNDQSom'; waitfor delay '0:0:15' --

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★

eძ🇵🇰🇨ℹℊ🇾🇫|ﾒ🇧♭ɞʟﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ꑭ📧✘𐙚✞αТ🇺⩜⃝🤍ྀི⩇⩇:⩇⩇𝓹𝓗𖤐⋆.˚༯★ރ⁴⁴⁴🧸ྀི♱❥ㅤᵕ̈✮ᡣ𐭩ּྀིྀིྀི ֶָ֢.╰ƒ୨ৎ✗⌞𝒥Nྀི⨈𝕏 ⓘ€✓₅₅₅ω☰‹𝟹Ｙ❗𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓪🇼^᪲᪲᪲ɢ🇪𝔼ಇ.⋆⭒˚.⋆༒︎Ø/\/☾🧸┃࣪ ִֶָ☾.𓆩❤︎𓆪𝓼+𝓭𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑀𝒾 𝒜𝓂𝑜𝓇𓆰〇𝚁ᴇᴏ𓆪⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ☆ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖘 ☆𝑒🇪୧𝒾𝐫🇸🇷🇦ྀི🇱🇮⚬ֶָ֢𓎆𝘓🇹🇻ɪ፝֟𝑬℮𝔼꒰𝓐𝑳𝓙ᡣ𐭩ᥫ᭡𝓜Ʀ🇳١٥٧٤♡𝓐ᥫ᭡.♛✰ꨄ︎𝓑𝐌𝛂nྀི🆂ᥫ᭡.☪︎ꪗ♡ᯓᡣ𐭩☻ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི𝖆𝐕❦.ᐟ౨ৎ<𝟑𝒦🇭𝜗𝜚†ᯓ ᡣ𐭩❀🇲☆И𖦹🇬ᯓ★🇩♰⋆𖹭𑁤🇴ℋ❤︎ʚɞᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✮⋆˙🅰Ея ꫂ ၴႅၴ𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎EMINƎMℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!

if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0)

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩

@@sFERN

eʟ⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ†🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚nྀི꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ɪ፝֟🇴🅰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁🇹ֶָ֢ツᰔ⚬𓎆⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆١٥٧٤♡𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇🅽🅴🆃🅵🅻🅸🆇𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.EMINƎMℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕αnྀི✞ꨄ︎ꑭ

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕α

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢MNYLMx48')) OR 167=(SELECT 167 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢����%2527%2522\'\"

eƒ†̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒮ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒿𝒶𝒶𝓃 ❣️🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆꧁ᬊᬁᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾

eʟ†⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚nྀི꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ɪ፝֟🇴🅰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁🇹ֶָ֢ツᰔ⚬𓎆⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆١٥٧٤♡𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇🅽🅴🆃🅵🅻🅸🆇𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.EMINƎM

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕αnྀི

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε̤̮

eʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱

eძ🇵🇰🇨ℹℊ🇾🇫|ﾒ🇧♭ɞʟﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ꑭ📧✘𐙚✞αТ🇺⩜⃝🤍ྀི⩇⩇:⩇⩇𝓹𝓗𖤐⋆.˚༯★ރ⁴⁴⁴🧸ྀི♱❥ㅤᵕ̈✮ᡣ𐭩ּྀིྀིྀི ֶָ֢.╰ƒ୨ৎ✗⌞𝒥Nྀི⨈𝕏 ⓘ€✓₅₅₅ω☰‹𝟹Ｙ❗𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓪🇼^᪲᪲᪲ɢ🇪𝔼ಇ.⋆⭒˚.⋆༒︎Ø/\/☾🧸┃࣪ ִֶָ☾.𓆩❤︎𓆪𝓼+𝓭𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑀𝒾 𝒜𝓂𝑜𝓇𓆰〇𝚁ᴇᴏ𓆪⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ☆ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖘 ☆𝑒🇪୧𝒾𝐫🇸🇷🇦ྀི🇱🇮⚬ֶָ֢𓎆𝘓🇹🇻ɪ፝֟𝑬℮𝔼꒰𝓐𝑳𝓙ᡣ𐭩ᥫ᭡𝓜Ʀ🇳١٥٧٤♡𝓐ᥫ᭡.♛✰ꨄ︎𝓑𝐌𝛂nྀི🆂ᥫ᭡.☪︎ꪗ♡ᯓᡣ𐭩☻ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི𝖆𝐕❦.ᐟ౨ৎ<𝟑𝒦🇭𝜗𝜚†ᯓ ᡣ𐭩❀🇲☆И𖦹🇬ᯓ★🇩♰⋆𖹭𑁤🇴ℋ❤︎ʚɞᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✮⋆˙🅰Ея ꫂ ၴႅၴ𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎EMINƎMℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!ziGKbV0M')) OR 73=(SELECT 73 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

eྀིྀི • ʞ༝•⃝∘^ྀི·󠁥󠁅̤̮|-|™ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅও.☘︎ ݁˖༒︎˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚/\/࣪ ִֶָ☾.>ᴗ<.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 5️Ĥၴႅၴ‏𖦹ᛒ๋࣭ ⭑⋆€₅₅₅↪️✉я0️ℂ⋆Е‪‪❤︎‬₊ ⊹💌🔞༄⁠❥˙ᵕ˙×͜×⊹ ࣪ ˖ ひ Ↄ ʚɞ w󠁵ϟ⁠♡℧R💕₊⊹ᯤ( •͈૦•͈ )ʕᵔᴥᵔʔ˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖С⋆๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑⁵⁵⁵ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩𖹭ೀ*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗(∩˃o˂∩)♡Σ(°ロ°)๋࣭ ⭑뉴진스๋࣭ ⭑˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১≽^•⩊•^≼( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁DươngBee˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥≽^•༚• ྀི≼(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟεつ(‿ˠ‿)‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.(⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝)༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˚ ࣪𖤐🫧⋆⭒˚💫‧₊ ִֶָ☾.༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ୧ֶָ֢ძྀིɪ፝֟ℊʟi️ֶָ֢ℹ|🇪℮ᥫ᭡ᡣ𐭩Ʀᥫ᭡.Nྀིnྀིᯓᡣ𐭩ИТ١٥٧٤♡αE♡.ᐟᡣ𐭩ּྀིྀི ֶָ֢.ᯓ★ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᡣ𐭩 †§๋࣭ ⭑⚝ᰔᩚ౨ৎя <𝟑ℋL ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིᝰ.ᐟ•ᴗ•જ⁀➴ᙏ∞ 𐙚 ⁷⁷⁷ㅤ༯ØÖωಇ.ßᯓ ᡣ𐭩Λףƒ⁴⁴⁴KuğuО∪Ħ®OTPTNmJq')) OR 59=(SELECT 59 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

@@dT0td

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒮ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒿𝒶𝒶𝓃 ❣️🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆꧁ᬊᬁᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂

eƒ†̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.

eƒ†̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

@@OVqCv

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧-1 waitfor delay '0:0:15' --

@@wRduJ

@@OV2Yn

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼℮€Е𝑳𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝓜ᡣ𐭩🇷𝓙ֶָ֢𝒾🇳𑁤🇦Ʀ༯🇸𝐌𝓐𝐫α‹𝟹 🇱✮♛Ε𖦹ᥫ᭡🆂🇩꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🇹.ᐟ🇮ツ📧🇴Nྀི🇭⩜ℋ𝘓𝒦⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᥫ᭡.ಇ.𝄞☻ß౨ৎ🇲ྀི𓆩⚝𓆪🇪𝔼𝓗𓎆ℊ♡⩇⩇:⩇⩇☾ꨄ︎🇼⠧🅰ᝰ.ᐟ🇧꒰ɪ፝֟🇨/\/ωnྀི🇰🤍ྀི 𐙚 ᯓᡣ𐭩١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.

eʟ†⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚

eʟ⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ†🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚nྀི꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ɪ፝֟🇴🅰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁🇹ֶָ֢ツᰔ⚬𓎆

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Е

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!̤̮†

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻̤̮†ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕αnྀི✞ꨄ︎ꑭ<𝟑🇻🇵§⋆ɞძ★ℊ

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷